8 to 12 p.m.--Sat with Private Merited, listening to Lieut. True Born on
the mistakes of Wellington.

12.5 a.m.--Rose to go to bed. Was about to turn out gas in hall when I
discovered the lieutenant standing with his face to the wall playing pat-
a-cake with it. Gave him three-parts of a tumbler of brandy. Said he
felt better and went upstairs. Arrived in his bed-room, he looked about
him carefully, and then, with a superb sweep of his left arm, swept the
best Chippendale looking-glass in the family off the dressing table and
dived face down-wards to the floor, missing death and the corner of the
chest of drawers by an inch.

12:15 a.m.--Rolled him on to his back and got his feet on the bed. They
fell off again as soon as they were cleaner than the quilt. The
lieutenant, startled by the crash, opened his eyes and climbed into bed
unaided.

12.20 a.m.--Sent Private Merited for the M.O., Captain Geranium.

12.25 a.m.--Mixed a dose of brandy and castor-oil in a tumbler. Am told
it slips down like an oyster that way--bad oyster, I should think.
Lieut. True Born jibbed. Reminded him that England expects that every
man will take his castor-oil. Reply unprintable. Apologized a moment
later. Said that his mind was wandering and that he thought he was a
colonel. Reassured him.

12.40 a.m.--Private Merited returned with the M.O. Latter nicely dressed
in musical-comedy pyjamas of ravishing hue, and great-coat, with rose-
tinted feet thrust into red morocco slippers. Held consultation and
explained my treatment. M.O. much impressed, anxious to know whether I